


Breaking all the Rules

by Thedupshadove



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dubious Consent, Fluff and Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, you heard me folks: dubcon snuggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26117656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thedupshadove/pseuds/Thedupshadove
Summary: Elias proposes a somewhat...unusualwager.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 11
Kudos: 97





	Breaking all the Rules

It starts one afternoon as they sit in a cafe, people-watching.

“You see that couple over there?” Elias remarks, “The young man has known almost nothing but rejection from every quarter for his entire life. This is the first time a romantic pursuit has made it as far as a second date, let alone lasted for moths, and he’s having a hard time believing his luck. In fact,” and here his mouth curves into half a smile, “He’s seriously considering various kinds of love-detrimental behavior, just to get the ‘inevitable’ over with.”

“Oh?” Peter replies noncommittally. It isn’t like Elias to point out potential Lonely-food unless he’s building to something. 

“Why don’t we have a bet?” Ah, _there_ it is. “I’ll wager you that you can’t make him push her away. If you can do it then I’ll, oh, give you a picture of the stock market for the next five years, or something.”

“And if you win?”

“If I win, Peter, we spend a night together.”

Peter almost laughs. “Well that hardly seems like an equal balance, considering how often—“

“The _whole_ night, Peter. In the same bed. Touching. We fall asleep together and wake up together. For one night, Peter, we _hold_ each other.”

Well. That’s. Well. That certainly brings the two options closer to equality of scope. To give away a whole night to the embrace of one he already knows far too well, right on the heels of failing to procure a sacrifice, oh his Patron won’t like that at _all_. And, although he’s loathe to admit it, sends a tingle down Peter’s spine. “Very well. I accept. And may the worst man win.”

In the end, Peter loses. True love wins out, and the young man not only refuses to cut off his girlfriend, he proposes, to her joyful acceptance. And if the arguments Peter pulled out were weaker than usual, and if the supernatural pull of the Lonely was also a trifle weak...well, no one can prove anything. And so it is that Peter finds himself in Elias’ bedroom, small overnight bag set on the dresser, heart trilling in his chest. They’ve passed a fairly normal evening up until that point: dinner, conversation and veiled allusions to their respective brewing plans, but through it all there’s remained a tension in the air, the knowledge of what’s coming. And now, at last, here they are. 

Still, Peter has no intention of betraying his nerves quite so easily. “Well, Elias, I suppose the victor sets the terms. Should I assume that we’ll be having sex before the night is done?”

Elias shrugs. “We certainly could, but it isn’t required by the terms of the bet. The point is simply for us to spend time with one another.”

“I see. Alright, let’s proceed.”

And with very little ceremony, the both slip off their clothes and slide into bed. They’ve left their boxers on, but apart from that it’s skin against skin, and Peter is acutely aware of how warm it is. How soft. How even when Elias is supposedly lying still, there are a thousand tiny motions—shifting and twitching and even just breathing. And every motion pulls his attention back the fact that he is lying in bed _next to somebody_ , where he will remain for an entire night. And then Elias reaches across the tiny amount of space between them to cup his face and he’s wearing a some kind of cologne that smells like vanilla and leather and something unidentifiable, and all together they smell like a home. More-so, in fact, than Elias ever has to Peter’s recollection. And rather than his usual smug grin and glittering eyes, his face looks so...open. Guileless. Sincere. Vulnerable, even. 

“Hello, Peter.” he says. He sounds almost afraid.

Peter draws in a shaky breath. _Well_ , he thinks, _In for a penny, in for a pound_. The Forsaken will demand much of him for this. Sacrifice won’t cut it; it will need to be personal penance. But if he is to be punished, he’ll damn well get his money’s worth of crime. 

He reaches out, pulls his husband to him, buries his face in his hair. Elias seems to fit so naturally into his arms, nuzzling into his chest as Peter can feel both of their muscles loosen with utter contentment. Their heartbeats slow. Their breathing syncs. The world around them seems to grow quiet, shrinking down to encompass that bed and nothing else. 

They don’t end up having sex that night. They kiss a fair bit, run their hands along each other, but there seems to be an unspoken agreement that this night should be spent on special things, not something they get in a fair amount of elsewhen. And with each movement, each caress, each fond chuckle, Peter can feel the needles of love piercing the lifelong fog around his heart, and it hurts so sweetly to lean into it, to sit with the idea that he is loved, and that he loves. The dull ache of self-sufficiency falters, and into its place rushes a much keener ache, a desperate need for _more_. Hold me, speak to me, never leave me because I just couldn’t stand it, or else leave me right now before I crumble in your hands. He can feel his eyes begin to leak before long. Elias has the grace not to notice, although it’s possible that he squeezes Peter just a little tighter. 

After a while, tiredness wins out over giddiness, and so they settle down, Peter’s arms now wrapped all the way around Elias, clutching him like a teddy bear. As he lays there, waiting for sleep to close in, Peter finds his mind is exclusively focused on the man next to him. _I love you_ , he thinks. _I love your carefully-maintained, oh-so-sharp appearance and I love seeing you without it. I love the way you laugh and I love the way you scowl. I love your exquisite taste in food and I love your utter ineptitude at cooking. I love your fiendishly clever mind and I love it when you forget that it’s not 1832. I love the look on your face when you win and I love the look on your face when you lose. I love your masterful cruelty and I love your incongruous gentleness. I. Love. You._

They sleep in the next morning. Or rather, Elias sleeps in and Peter pretends to sleep for longer than he actually does as an excuse to not leave just yet. He knows he can’t fool the Lonely, of course, but Elias is just so mesmerizing in his sleep. A mind so used to always spinning, momentarily all but dormant. Face slack and soft, he looks almost fragile. So precious….

Another jolt passes through Peter’s shell and suddenly he can’t take it anymore. He has to go now or he’ll never go, and if he never goes he’ll lose...everything that he is. He releases his grip, rises, pulls his change of clothes from the overnight bag, dresses. Makes sure he has everything and prepares to head out the door.

Elias, by this point, has woken up. “I hope,” he says, sleep clinging to his voice, “that it wasn’t too unpleasant.”

Peter should, for form’s sake, probably lie and say that he hated it, but somehow he can’t. “Hardly. It made for an...interesting change of pace.”

“Well, good.” He hesitates. “In that case, I don’t suppose you’d like to...stay?”

Peter feels his heart lurch. He _could_ stay, couldn’t he? He could stay with his love and learn to truly share his life, and they could have a thousand nights like this, and slow lazy days, and mad adventures, and….

And the Lucas family legacy could crumble to dust. And he could lose all the power he’s spent more than half a century accruing. 

“I think you have to concede, Elias, that I have fully executed the terms of my loss. And I really should be going now.”

Elias’ smile barely even looks hollow, sadness only just creeping into the corners of his eyes. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Do you ever think about how Elias and Peter are constantly on the edge of their own "I see you" and have to _actively work to avoid it?_ Because I do.


End file.
